


Hush

by BetweenTheStars



Series: The Filth Chronicles [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (and then getting reemed by bucky), (who also fails horribly), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Captain America: The First Avenger, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Steve Rogers Being a Dumbass, Teasing, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, its cold and theyre horny, thats it thats the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22887493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenTheStars/pseuds/BetweenTheStars
Summary: “It’s cold,” Steve complains, splaying his equally chilly fingers against Bucky’s cheek and pushing his face away. He can’t stand that grin when Bucky gets like this; all playful, that same spark of boyish trouble in his Arctic eyes. “Jesus, Buck, have some sympathy.”“You could’ve gotten yourself killed today,” Bucky says lowly, looking back down at Steve as the hand drops from his face. “This is your punishment.”“I don’t suppose your prick has anything to do with it, does it?”Bucky grins.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: The Filth Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629916
Comments: 2
Kudos: 104





	Hush

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this was supposed to be posted sooner, but I got distracted by two other fics in the middle of writing this one.
> 
> On the upside: more content to come this month. It's also, you guessed it: porn! What a surprise.
> 
> This was purely inspired by an anon on my Tumblr, who said, "There's never enough war!stevebucky fics. I'm a sucker for those XD." Me too, anon, me too. I also combined it with another anon, who requested, "Bucky being a teasing shit in order to put Steve in his place for being stupid and then failing horribly. (also I'm glad you're back!)" Tysm! :,) Hope this lives up to y'alls expectations.

“God, I hate Colonel Phillips,” Bucky mutters as he climbs into Steve’s cot, forcing Steve to grunt and shuffle to the side, smushed up against the tent wall. It’s twin size. He can barely fit all on his own, and how Bucky manages to sidle up to him without a limb off the edge is unfair. It’s against physics, is what it is.

“Why, ‘cause he yelled at you or ‘cause he yelled at _me?_ ” Steve asks from the pillows, his voice muffled.

“Both,” Bucky grunts. He’s trying his best to steal the thin blanket around Steve’s waist, but Steve’s got an advantage, namely a stronger grip and stubborn determination to keep warm, and so the fight is useless. Bucky gives up, shoving his cold hands under Steve’s body instead, warming them up. “I mean, you get what you deserve, but me? I didn’t even do anything! _You_ charged at a tank, and now _I’m_ the one getting the backlash here. What was I s’posed to do, let you kill yourself?”

Steve turns his head so that he’s no longer suffocating himself and gives Bucky an innocent look. “I’ve taken down tanks before an’ I can do it again. You gotta trust me,”

“ _Trust me_ , he says,” Bucky scoffs, shoving his icy fingers further under Steve’s body. At this point, Steve can’t tell if it’s because he’s cold or it’s the most he can do without getting bucked off like a startled horse. “I’ll trust you when pigs fly.”

“Y’know, I think Howard is actually working on something to arrange that,” Steve drawls.

“Shut up. I hate you.”

With a shit-eating grin, Steve turns fully onto his side and wraps Bucky up in his arms. However, he gets caught halfway through the movement by the blanket and has to untangle himself from the wool, getting it stuck under his chin and then finally, with some maneuvering, they’re both under it. Steve gives Bucky’s waist a squeeze, humming contentedly. That hum quickly turns into a whine when he feels cold fingers start to trail up his back, under his shirt. Steve squirms in place and firmly stops the movement by rolling over, which brings Bucky with him, who’s now straddling his thighs and grinning wickedly against Steve’s clothed collarbones.

Bucky lifts his head up and wiggles in place, getting situated. The blanket around his shoulders starts to slide down his back, taking what little warmth they had with it and pooling near Bucky's thighs.

“It’s cold,” Steve complains, splaying his equally chilly fingers against Bucky’s cheek and pushing his face away. He can’t stand that grin when Bucky gets like this; all playful, that same spark of boyish trouble in his Arctic eyes. “ _Jesus_ , Buck, have some sympathy.”

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed today,” Bucky says lowly, looking back down at Steve as the hand drops from his face. “This is your punishment.”

“I don’t suppose your prick has anything to do with it, does it?”

Bucky looks down, eyebrows raised, at the button of his cargo pants, where his dick pushes and prods at uncomfortably. Steve’s not doing any better; laying that way, his back dipped away from the cot, his thighs trapped together, cheeks and nose tinted pink from the cold. He’s a sight, and one that Bucky drinks in slowly before bringing his gaze back up to the baby blues curiously looking his way.

Instead of answering, Bucky gives a slow, filthy roll of his hips and smirks smugly when Steve’s reaction is to gasp and thump his head back, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You know, I never really paid attention in school, but body heat was one thing that stuck,” Bucky murmurs, sliding his trapped fingers up from the arch of Steve’s back and planting them on his chest, over his shirt because Bucky’s not _that_ merciless. Not yet, anyways. Steve plants his own pair of hands onto Bucky’s hips and encourages him to keep moving like that, guiding his hips forward then pushing them back, making Bucky ride the line of his zipper almost torturously slow; thumbs pressing divots into the hollow of each hip.

Steve sighs, his breath shaky and only half because of the winter air. “I don’t think it’s working,” He says skeptically. There’s a lilt in his voice; a playful tone that Steve can’t help but add as Bucky’s hands start working at the fraying edges of his undershirt.

“Impatient,” Is all Bucky grumbles. He finally gets Steve’s shirt pushed up underneath his armpits, which cages his chest beautifully, makes each pec stand out like a woman’s breasts. Both of Steve’s nipples are red and hard and sensitive, according to the low noise Steve makes when Bucky runs his thumb over one of the pebbled peaks. Bucky bends down and presses warm kisses down the hollow of Steve’s throat, then his collarbones, trailing his way down until he’s biting the nub between his teeth real lightly, being careful, _always_ careful, and flicking his tongue across it, earning another one of those low noises. He then kisses his way back up and says into Steve’s mouth, “Fuck me.”

“It’s negative four degrees outside,” Steve protests incredulously, even though his hips are rolling up with strong intent. “I’ll get frostbite on my dick.”

“If it was inside of me, you wouldn’t be having that problem,” Bucky counters.

“We’re in a tent. Anybody could hear us.”

“Says the guy who charged a fuckin’ _tank_ this morning.”

“What does that have to do with anything I just said?” Steve huffs. Bucky’s cold fingers once again head down to attack his chest, making Steve squirm atop the cot like a fish out of water.

“It’s a _thrill_ ,” Bucky gruffs out. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he was imagining strangling him rather than just attacking him with the exact temperature they’re trying to counter. Like he’s proving Steve’s point, Bucky gives up and goes for the neck instead, only to get stopped by a pair of hands that grab, twist, and hold both of Bucky’s wrists behind his own back. Bucky huffs. “You can take enough adrenaline to OD an adrenaline junkie, but you can’t handle the thought of us getting caught together?”

“I’d rather not get fired,” Steve says dryly.

“You’re a Captain. They can’t get rid of a genetically modified asshole that easily.”

“But they can get rid of my Sergeant any time they want.”

Bucky pulls a face, scowling. Now that’s just not fair, throwing the truth up into his face like that. Bucky _knows_ , alright; he knows what they do is not acceptable to the entirety of the 107th and possibly even the world, too. But he’s been living in fear for twenty-two years of his life and it’s about high time that he stops caring so goddamn much before everything he yearns for gets ripped from his frozen hands.

Determinedly, Bucky uses the advantage of no longer having use of his arms to change the angle, now pushing his ass directly down onto the tent in Steve’s pants. Steve’s head falls back again, a moan on his lips that gets covered by a set of teeth, trying to stay quiet. Bucky wants nothing more than to see him writhe and cry out, being as loud as he wants. But alas, this is what they both have to work with.

Bucky gets tired of his straining pants real quick. He goes to reach for them, trying to break Steve’s grasp, but Steve doesn’t let him go. Instead, he pulls Bucky down and licks into his mouth hotly, the muscles of his biceps flexing, keeping Bucky held at that same angle while he steals his breath straight from his lungs. Whimpering, Bucky continues his struggle and tells Steve as the kiss briefly breaks, “Need my hands.”

“To what?” Steve questions, as he trails his kiss-bitten mouth down Bucky’s jawline and neck. He nibbles lightly over a sensitive spot beneath his ear and grins smugly when Bucky’s reply gets cut off by a hushed groan.

“Pants,” says Bucky, breathless.

Steve hums and lets go, and Bucky’s hands immediately fly to the button of his cargo pants, so fast and nimble that the button itself pops off during his effort. It pings against the metal frame of the cot and lands on the floor near his pair of boots. “Shit,” Bucky hisses, planting one hand on Steve’s chest so that he could reach down and grab it. He sits back up with the button in hand, Steve’s curiously amused expression sitting in the corner of his eye. “We’ve got thread, don’t we?”

“Is that all you’re worried about here?” Steve says, instead of answering.

“No,” Bucky mumbles. The button ends up getting shoved into his pocket, and then he’s bringing his hands down to Steve’s pants, being careful about it. He now knew the extent of strength that was considered overboard when taking them off, and so with deft fingers, he carefully gets Steve’s pants unbuttoned, unzipped, and down. He looks back up at him with a victorious smile, one that Steve huffs a laugh at.

Bucky slips his fingers into the waistband of Steve’s underwear and pulls it up, snapping it against his skin. Steve laugh gets cut off by a curse.

“What was that for?” He hisses.

“Dunno. Just thought you deserved it,” Bucky does it again, lifting the waistband and letting it go to watch it snap against Steve’s skin, making a dull red line form. It’s gone by the time Bucky’s done tracing it with the pad of his thumb, and what a shame. He loves seeing marks all over his Stevie.

Steve arches his lower back and tugs impatiently on Bucky’s hips, trying to guide him closer. He speaks a lot of backtalk for wanting this just as bad as Bucky does. But Bucky’s also a sucker for giving in, and so the payback he wanted to give doesn’t last nearly as long as he was planning for it to. He tugs Steve’s briefs down, fast and unceremoniously, and he gets ahold of his cock, giving it a few pumps, pre-cum leaking all over his fingers. Steve does it again; arches up and grabs at his hips, like he’d lose him in the pleasure if he didn’t hold on tight enough. Bucky can feel bruises forming in the shape of handprints and the imagery that provides makes his spine go all liquid-hot.

Letting go, he sits back and manages to pry Steve’s hands off of him. Steve gives up after a cursory fight, then watches enraptured as Bucky’s clothing starts shedding off, first starting with his pants and then ending when he’s naked from the waist down. It’s still too cold out to discard his shirt. Where there’s sweat on his hairline is already dried and cooling; he wouldn’t be surprised if ice formed. He’d just have to stay still long enough for that to happen, but unfortunately for them, time is never on their sides, not like this. Even sneaking away to _kiss_ nowadays is a luxury they can’t afford to lose.

Bucky leans over and braces himself on Steve’s shoulders, giving himself enough leeway to kiss him and blindly reach for the tub of vaseline at the same time. Tub in hand, he gives it to Steve, who begins to slick up the fingers of his right hand with a twisted look on his face. Steve _hates_ vaseline, not only for the feel but how hard it is to clean out with the little shower time they all get. Bucky, however, has grown accustomed to it. It gets him hot, the smell, the feeling; makes Steve’s fingers feel way bigger than they actually are, stretching him further. Bucky arches his back in order to give Steve more room to work with and gasps at the first digit pressing up against him, sliding in, easy as ever, ‘til it hits the knuckle.

Steve curls his finger in and Bucky gasps and jolts, his inner thighs squeezing Steve’s own like he’s worried he’ll buck himself off. It’s not that it hadn’t happened before, but it’s cold as hell outside and he’d rather save his own ass from sitting itself onto the dirty tarp lain strewed across the rough floor.

“Christ,” Bucky bites, pressing his hands to Steve’s chest. Ten little dots appear from the pressure of his nails. They disappear by the time he shifts his grip, now just one hand pressed flat against him, his other reaching down to line up both of their cocks, his fingers just barely able to wrap around the combined girth. He twists his wrists on the first few upstrokes and Steve’s head falls back at the same time as Bucky moans, finally, _finally_ , getting that little bundle of nerves inside of him hit head-on. It’s been forever since he’s been able to get off. Steve sauntering around with his commanding face on and rumpled suit has done nothing but bad to Bucky’s never-ending libido. Call him what you will- a whore, a slut, clingy, _needy_ \- but he just can’t help himself, and Steve can’t either, or so it seems.

Steve manages three fingers before he decides that Bucky’s prepped well enough. They’ve gone further with less, in the more stressful moments of their lives, when time was a ticking clock hanging above their exposed heads. While Bucky lifts himself up and aligns Steve’s cock, now having to pause stimulation on the both of them to do so, Steve gets his hands tucked under the grey shirt in front of him, making Bucky jolt and huff. Hiis abs spasm.

“You _asshole_ ,” He grits out, a dull flush high on his cheeks, trying and failing not to show how hot he is for it, despite the protesting front he’s putting up. “Christ, all you ever want is payback and fights these days, ‘s like you’re— you’re- _oh, oh fuck-_ ” Bucky moans, throwing his head back as Steve forces his hips down. Steve’s grinning evilly as he watches, and Bucky hates him, he hates him so much, but it’s so good- _too_ good, and _God_. If he walks away feeling nothing but sore tomorrow, then the prospect of getting caught will be more than worth it. Encouraged, even. The more danger, the harder Steve will have to fuck him in order to get this over with and put away for the next few weeks they’ll have to wait to have at each other again.

Gentle isn’t even _close_ to describing how Bucky starts moving his hips.

He rises up, gentle at first, getting used to the stretch— Steve’s cock is _massive_ , not only by length, but girth too, and so that’s the first thing he feels: overwhelmed and full, his abdomen still clenching up rhythmically even after Steve’s fully seated inside of him. Once he’s had enough time to dwell on the ache he’ll surely be feeling tomorrow, Bucky rises up by a few inches and sits himself back down, quick and rough, moaning out with the feeling. He says “ _oh,_ ” on every thrust downwards, and not even consciously. “ _Oh, oh, oh,_ ” And then finally Steve’s taking the reins, gritting out something along the lines of making Bucky work for it before he’s pulling him down, thrust for thrust, and grunting quietly whenever the hot, tight heat grips him fully, wrapped around his cock better than his own fist could achieve.

Bucky gasps in a sudden breath when the angle changes. Before, it felt good, so good, but now it’s _amazing_. Every decent has Steve hitting his prostate over and over and Bucky can’t even take it. He whimpers, biting down on his fist to prevent the absolutely _sinful_ noises he wants to let out. Steve’s not doing any better. His bottom lip is red to the point where it’s almost bleeding. Bucky wants to lick at it, soothe the ache and then create one of his own, make a mark with his canines so that Steve would be imprinted by him for the next hour or so. The thing is, Bucky can’t even get his own breathing right, let alone focus enough to catch up with kissing.

“Buck,” Steve groans quietly, and decides for him. Bucky pants into his mouth as he’s pulled down to Steve’s chest, still taking the brutal assault to his prostate, only now instead of biting his fist to counteract the moans, he gets to bite down on Steve’s lips instead, just as he wanted to.

“Yeah… _Jesus_ , don’t fuckin’ stop-” Bucky nearly begs, as Steve presses kiss after kiss to his mouth, jaw, and neck— anywhere he can reach. Anywhere but Bucky’s ear, because he knows that it’s his weak spot and he doesn’t want this to end so soon, not yet at least.

Steve’s right hand slips down, getting ahold of the back of Bucky’s left thigh so that he could plant both of his feet on the cot and thrust upwards, straight into the heat spiraling him closer to the edge. Bucky’s thighs were burning from exertion, anyways, and the lack of effort in needing to hold himself up only makes him moan louder into the bunched-up shirt over Steve’s collarbones. He’s moaning so loud, in fact, that Steve has to slow down the pace for a while to give him a few minutes to get ahold of himself.

It’s torture. It’s against the Geneva Conventions, is what it is, making him back off from the edge, making all that heat pooling in his gut build up ‘til it has nowhere to go, ‘til it’s eating him up from the inside out. Bucky sobs his dismay into Steve’s cotton shirt and Steve coos to him, mumbling soft, “ _I know, honey, I know. Need it so bad, huh? Can’t handle it when you’re no longer getting pounded into. Poor thing._ ”

Bucky lifts his head, no longer pressing his cheek to a warm patch of skin, and looks up at Steve with dazed eyes and a pleading pout. “I’m supposed to be punishing _you,_ ” He says, struggling to push himself up so that he could push back down; fill the empty space he so desperately wants back.

“Mm,” Steve hums non-committedly, beginning to move his hips again. Just gentle thrusts, nothing that’ll get him too riled up by. “But I don’t think you want me to stop, do you? You’re not strong enough to overpower me. There’s nothing you can do.”

What Steve doesn’t know, is that Bucky can, technically, overpower him. After Azzano, and after the experiments he still has nightmares from, Bucky can do a lot of things he couldn’t before. Matching Steve strength for strength, or holding him down for a few minutes at a time in the _least_ , is just one of many new enhancements he’s got. But of course, he just plays his part and pretends to struggle when both of his wrists end up getting caught in the tight grip of Steve’s huge hand. They get bound behind his back again, making Bucky arch for it while his spot is hit at an agonizingly slow pace.

“I don’t beg,” He says stubbornly, voice hushed. If someone were to hear them and come check their tent out right at this moment, right as Bucky’s so close to getting what he wants, then he might just honest-to-God cry. And it’d be completely justifiable, too.

Steve bounces him on his lap; once, twice, a small grin on his kiss-bitten lips. “Then work for it. If you want it so bad, you’ll have to show me. Show me how much you want me.”

“Can’t believe the fact that you’re an asshole had slipped my mind,” Bucky mumbles, but there’s really no way he can argue his way out of this one, considering that he’s already starting to move his hips. He grinds down on Steve in filthy circles, moaning out with the feeling, his bottom lip taking the brunt of the pain as he tries to muffle himself without the usage of a hand. Steve’s eyes are on where they’re connected, watching Bucky bounce on him, twist his hips, digging crescent-shaped marks into the palms of his own hands to keep himself from taking back his arms.

Steve flutters his eyes closed for a second or two just to savor the feeling, and Bucky sees it as his chance at redemption. Speeding up to the best of his ability, he arches his back and bears down on the heat inside of him, squeezing Steve’s cock like a vice. Steve makes a very choked, very breathless noise and his eyes fly open, first to Bucky’s smug face, then down to his hips, watching Bucky’s cock, red and slick now, bounce with each movement. Bucky’s too focused on the sensation of getting his spot hit that he doesn’t even notice Steve’s hand making a beeline for his dick. It clicks after a few seconds, that one arm is free and where there was cool air is now a warm hand, wrapping around him oh so gently and letting Bucky fuck into the heat on every uprise. Bucky sobs again when Steve’s hand starts to twist near the tip, and his voice gets all low and throaty like it usually does when he’s turned on enough to get choked up with it.

“ _God_ , Buck, just like that. Dirty me up, c’mon. I wanna see it; wanna see you fall apart.” And with Steve talking that way, with Steve _sounding_ that way, Bucky does. His orgasm hits him like a freight train, whitening out his vision and making what was supposed to be a quick, quiet fuck a loud one. Steve has enough sense to slap his other hand over Bucky’s mouth before he’s shoving up into him in a few sloppy thrusts, heaving a quick breath every time his hips meet Bucky’s own.

“B- Buck-” Steve stammers, the tendon in his neck straining as he reaches his breaking point. Bucky leans down sedately and licks at that tendon, tracing the line with his tongue until he feels Steve tense up and spill into him, making a mess of Bucky’s insides and, if he were to guess, the top of Steve’s cargo pants that had been pulled down just enough to free himself.

Bucky pants against Steve’s neck and Steve does the same. Then it turns into a chuckle that rumbles through Bucky’s chest, like a big, purring cat, satisfied after a long day of catching birds. “What’s so funny?” Bucky asks, if a bit guardedly.

Steve smiles at him and kisses the top of his head. “Nothin’. M’just really happy.”

“You just got your rocks off. Of course you’re happy,” Bucky grumbles. He attempts to sit up— his ass is cold and pretty soon it’s going to be cold _and_ wet, and that’s a feeling he’ll gladly pass up on. However, Steve keeps him strapped down by the use of his tree trunk of an arm, so all Bucky ends up doing is jabbing his own side with his left elbow.

“What would our Ma’s think, knowing what we got up to in the army?” Steve asks through his sunshine of a smile. He’s letting Bucky go, but only by a little. Just enough for Bucky to roll on over and shuffle back into his pants, right before pulling the wool blanket up to their chins. Steve’s pants are still down, and he grimaces when the wool rubs over his overly-sensitive skin.

Bucky rests his head next to Steve’s, sighing. “Probably not a lot, considering one half is dead and the other cares more about my sisters than me.”

Steve’s smile doesn’t even dull. He’s used to it: the Gallows humour. He knows Bucky doesn’t mean what he’s said, even if it’s true. “I’m just sayin’, it’s kinda great we get this while the world around us is—”

“Shitty?” Bucky interrupts.

“I was gonna say: full of tragedy. But yeah, shitty works just fine.”

“Well, the only thing that isn’t shitty is you an’ me. Guess we’re the lucky bunch,” Bucky sits up; places a kiss on Steve’s curved lips. “Bedtime?” It’s somewhere close to midnight. They have assembly in the morning at six. Gotta be up before Colonel Phillips decides to prolong the punishment he has in store for the both of them.

Steve yawns, pulling his pants up. “Yeah,” He sighs, mouth still hung wide for a moment or two. He keeps the mantle lantern on just in case of any danger (they _are_ still in a war, after all), but war has a tendency to make soldiers sleep in any condition they can, so it doesn’t really matter. “See you in the morning, Sergeant.”

Bucky throws a lazy punch to Steve’s sternum. He barely flinches, chuckling deep and happy again, rumbling throughout Bucky’s body. “Ay ay, Captain,” He murmurs, and promptly passes the fuck out.

**Author's Note:**

> Any kudos or comments are appreciated! [Here's](https://ctrl-alt-bucky.tumblr.com/ask) the link to my ask box on Tumblr if you wanna request somethin'. <3


End file.
